Hollywood Husbands

by Jackie Collins

  She was thrilled she’d finally made contact with Rocky. At least it was a start. He might be all talk, and then again he really might have connections in the record industry. It was worth a shot.

  She had asked him over. He’d said he would try and make it. She couldn’t wait!

  Eddie stripped down to shorts and a tank top. He was tall and lanky, with an athlete’s body. Most of the girls at school thought he was the babe of all time. Heaven couldn’t care less.

  They sat out on the circular deck with a portable tape machine and a couple of beers. Eddie nursed his precious guitar, and Heaven held a sheaf of papers to her bare stomach. She wore a bikini and a Bruce Springsteen bandanna. The papers were scribbled all over with the lyrics of her latest songs.

  Eddie strummed a few chords, and she began to hum.

  ‘Uh… I’ve got a couple of slow songs I wanna try,’ she said, after a few moments.

  He groaned. Eddie only liked rock and roll. He didn’t understand anything else.

  ‘Just ease me along with a little background,’ she pleaded. ‘And then I’ve got some other stuff you’ll love.’

  She started to sing, a low sound at first, as she wasn’t used to hearing herself without a rip-roaring background, and it seemed strange.

  Baby—

  I never told you how I felt before—

  Because…

  Baby—

  You always make me wait for you—

  Because…

  Baby—

  Don’t you know I love you

  Don’t you know I want you

  Don’t you know I need you

  Because…

  Baby—

  Her voice strengthened and began to soar. She sounded like a cross between Carly Simon and a less sophisticated Annie Lennox from the Eurythmics. She combined innocence and knowingness, and her voice had a wonderful husky quality.

  She did not sound anything at all like Silver Anderson, although it was obvious she had inherited her mother’s talent.

  Even Eddie was forced to admit reluctantly that she was good. ‘I hate the song, but you’re singin’ fine,’ he said, bursting into a lively rendition of ‘Blue Suede Shoes’ on his guitar.

  She didn’t mind that Eddie couldn’t appreciate her slow songs. She knew they were right.

  ‘One more time,’ she said forcefully. ‘I want to tape it, and I want it to be perfect.’

  * * *

  There was a young actor in the off-Broadway production Clarissa was appearing in who played her lover. Naturally, she had felt an immediate urge to put him at his ease – even though he was living with one of her best friends. ‘What Carole doesn’t know, will not hurt her. And we need this closeness for our performances,’ Clarissa explained logically.

  He struggled weakly, gave in, and found it was so good for his performance that doing it every night seemed only fair to the audience. Clarissa agreed.

  When Jack arrived at the theatre he was informed that Ms. Browning could not be disturbed before the show. It was a strict rule.

  ‘I think I’m an exception,’ he said confidently.

  When he entered her small dressing room with a pass key and the script of The Murder, he found Clarissa bent double over her dressing table, and a skinny bare-assed actor servicing her doggy-style.

  His eyes met hers in the dressing table mirror. Her deeply intense gaze was completely devoid of any emotion.

  Without a word he threw down the script and left.

  Chapter Sixty

  ‘Quinne’s dropping by.’ Silver stretched and smiled as she lay out by the pool. ‘He says he has something important to tell me.’

  ‘Quinne’s your—’

  ‘Agent.’ She finished the sentence for him.

  ‘Is he good?’ Wes asked, reaching for an open can of Coca-Cola.

  ‘I wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t, would I?’

  Shrugging easily he replied, ‘I know fuck-all about the film business, but isn’t Zeppo White supposed to be the best agent around?’

  ‘Ah… Zeppo.’ Silver popped a white grape in her mouth and savoured the taste. ‘When I was planning my comeback in America, Zeppo White would not even answer my phone calls.’

  ‘I bet he’s sorry now.’

  ‘Naturellement. All the big agents are sorry. Quinne was there for me and I’ll never forget it. He was the only one who knew I could do it.’

  ‘Does he renegotiate your contract every season?’

  Giving him a penetrating look, she plucked another grape from the glass dish. ‘For someone who knows nothing about the biz, you’ve certainly picked up a phrase or two…’

  ‘I was talking to Chuck Nielson. He was thinking of signing with Quinne.’

  ‘And did he?’

  Wes shook his head. ‘He said going with Quinne Lattimore is like admitting defeat.’

  ‘Hmmm… for someone like Chuck it probably is. Once you fall from Sadie La Salle’s favour…’

  ‘Who’s she?’

  ‘The hottest female agent in town. I was with her once, long ago and far away. And before you ask, she also didn’t answer my calls when I was desperate.’

  ‘Desperation breeds contempt.’

  ‘You’re telling me! I lived through it.’ She sat up and reached for a huge straw hat. Her eyes were already covered by black wraparound sunglasses. She did not believe in allowing too much sun to reach her face. It dried the skin, causing premature lines and wrinkles.

  Her body, in a strapless pink swimsuit, cut high on the thighs, was beginning to tan nicely.

  ‘A weekend in the Springs might be nice,’ she murmured. ‘Now that I’m a free woman we must take advantage of it. Once I go back to work, the schedule is pure murder.’

  ‘You work very hard, then.’

  ‘Like a dog!’ she exclaimed, obviously loving every minute of the pressure.

  ‘Why?’

  She stretched a smooth leg out in front of her. ‘To make the bucks, darling. To keep us in the style you are soon going to become very, very accustomed to.’

  Laughing, he caught hold of her slim ankle. ‘I’m used to it already.’

  She twisted towards him. ‘I know. Luxury is irresistible, isn’t it?’

  He allowed his fingers to tip-toe up her leg, pausing on her inner thigh, where he began slow stroking.

  ‘I like it,’ she said, her voice husky.

  His fingers crept between the flesh of her leg and the elastic of her swimsuit.

  She sighed with pleasure.

  Just as he was about to go for the gold, Vladimir appeared.

  Vladimir had developed a habit of ignoring him whenever possible. The Russian houseman had decided he knew exactly who Wes Money was. A con man, a hustler, and a paid stud – in that order.

  ‘The phone, madame,’ Vladimir said, handing her the instrument. ‘It’s Miss Carvell.’

  She reached for the receiver. ‘Nora. What are you up to?’

  ‘Fending off investigative reporters,’ Nora replied grumpily. ‘Everyone wants to know more about Wes. If we don’t give ’em something, they’ll really start digging.’

  ‘Let them,’ Silver said defiantly. She turned to Wes. ‘Do you have anything horrible to hide, darling?’

  He indicated the telling bulge in his brief swimsuit. ‘Only this.’

  She laughed delicately.

  Vladimir, standing in the background, glared.

  Wes gave him a look. ‘We don’t need anything,’ he said. ‘You can go.’

  ‘I’m vaiting for the telephone,’ Vladimir replied stiffly. ‘I only bother Madame with calls she wishes to receive.’

  Wes glanced at Silver, who was busy chatting to Nora. ‘Piss off, Vlad,’ he said in a low voice. ‘When we want you I’ll give you a shout. Until you hear me calling – stay in the kitchen, or wherever you hang out, and don’t bother us. Have you got that?’

  Vladimir blushed a deep scarlet. ‘I obey Madame’s wishes—’ he began.

  �
�You obey mine, or you’re out on your ass,’ Wes interrupted sharply.

  Vladimir backed off, vanishing into the house without another word.

  Wes concentrated on Silver. ‘Hang up,’ he said.

  ‘I’m speaking to Nora—’

  He started to stroke her thigh again. ‘I said hang up.’

  She giggled girlishly. ‘Nora, I have to go now, a minor emergency. I’ll call you back.’

  His fingers began serious exploratory work.

  She lay back in the hot sunlight and spread her legs, murmuring, ‘Easy access.’

  ‘C’mon.’ He pulled her to her feet. ‘Show me how to switch the jacuzzi on.’

  ‘I don’t want to get my hair wet,’ she objected.

  ‘I don’t think I care.’

  ‘Wes! You’re incorrigible!’

  Is that what they call it? he thought with a grin.

  She threw two levers, and the jacuzzi bubbled to life.

  He took her by the hand and led her down the steps into the steaming water. She still had on her hat and sunglasses, but he didn’t care. He was suddenly as randy as a dog after a bitch in heat. Making it in a jacuzzi was a fantasy he had not yet realized.

  She sat on the marble seat and began to complain. ‘This is not a good idea. My hair… my skin… this water is too harsh… I…’

  He silenced her with a kiss, and at the same time he took off her hat and threw it away, while his other hand pulled the top of her swimsuit down and played with a nipple.

  She stopped objecting and leaned back.

  With both hands he peeled her swimsuit all the way down and off, crushed her breasts together, and tongued both nipples lightly.

  ‘Mmm…’ she sighed.

  Slipping out of his shorts, he manoeuvred her legs until they were wrapped firmly around his waist. And then, without hesitation, he plunged straight in, fighting the water every inch of the way.

  ‘I love it,’ she gasped. ‘More, more, give me more!’

  The strong jets of water were everywhere. Very slowly he withdrew, and holding her legs apart he positioned her in front of one of the jets.

  ‘Oh… my… God!’ she shouted. ‘Ohhhh… goddammit!’

  Instant orgasm. Which excited the hell out of him, and he immediately went back for more, catching her in the throes, making her come again and again, and finally letting go himself with a triumphant yell. At which point they both sank under the bubbling water.

  Silver was some sport, which really surprised him. She surfaced choking and coughing, her hair plastered to her head, her wraparound sunglasses askew. ‘You sonofabitch!’ she exclaimed, spluttering with laughter. ‘It just gets better all the time.’

  He had to agree. And he wanted to pinch himself to see if he woke up. He’d gotten luckier than he’d ever dreamed possible.

  ‘Towel,’ she commanded.

  Quickly he hopped out of the jacuzzi and grabbed a large striped beach towel which he held open for her to step into.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said formally. ‘You’re very kind.’

  ‘And you’re some hot broad.’

  ‘So eloquent!’

  ‘So full of it!’

  Jumping back into the jacuzzi he groped for their swimsuits.

  Vladimir, lurking behind a curtain in the living room, watched everything, and as he saw them approaching the house he scurried off to the kitchen and made copious notes. When he was ready to sell his story, he was going to make an absolute fortune!

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Vaguely it occurred to Howard Soloman that snorting cocaine was becoming more than just a habit. He did not feel comfortable unless he knew the soothing white powder was within easy reach.

  I can afford it, he thought. It’s certainly no worse than alcohol and much less anti-social.

  The only problem was he couldn’t get through the day without it. No problem really – because he didn’t have to.

  Over the months he had developed several new sources of supply, so he did not need to depend on anyone in particular. It was an expensive habit, but God – it was worth every hard-earned dollar.

  The day passed smoothly, thanks to his quick thinking and clever way of dealing with Zachary’s cockamamie orders. By four-thirty he had all the offers in writing, and a runner standing by to deliver them to the forewarned agents.

  He drove over to Zachary’s bungalow at The Beverly Hills Hotel, and sat there cockily while the old man scanned them one by one.

  I’m the highest-paid messenger boy in history, he reflected, with a private smile.

  Zachary paused when he came to the offer for Silver. ‘Why so little?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s double the amount she received for six weeks on her soap. That’s more than fair, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s pennies compared to the others.’

  ‘We’re talking big bucks with the others. Quinne’ll kiss our ass from here to Australia. And so will Silver, if she’s smart. They’re not exactly rushing her to do movies, y’know. Sure, she’s big on television, but that means cow dung. Look at Tom Selleck. The guy was hotter than she is today. Three movies later and nothin’ happened. When they can get it for free, they don’t want to pay for it.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Zachary.

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Howard remarked cheerfully. His throat was parched. Sitting here for twenty minutes and no offer of refreshments. The old guy was either tight or rude. Probably a combination of both. ‘Do you mind if I order a drink?’

  Placing the written offers in a neat pile, Zachary stood up. ‘I’m going out,’ he said brusquely. ‘Feel free to use the Polo Lounge if you want a drink.’

  ‘Good idea. I’ll do that.’ Take your job and shove it all the way up your constipated asshole, prickface.

  ‘Before you go, Howard. Two requests.’

  ‘Yes?’ Cheap motherfucker.

  ‘Since I’ve decided to stay over, I’m free for dinner tonight. May I join you?’

  ‘Absolutely. Wouldn’t have it any other way.’ Oh, Christ. Poppy will be really thrilled.

  ‘And please arrange companionship.’

  Howard looked blank. ‘Companionship?’

  ‘Two high-class ladies. Discreet, and under thirty.’ A meaningful break, then, ‘And they should both have clean bills of health, dated today.’

  His own stuttering took Howard by surprise, along with the request. ‘Er… c-c-certainly. I’ll g-get right on it.’

  Fuck! Paid messenger was one thing. But pimp, too? Maybe it was time to start looking around.

  * * *

  ‘This is the big leagues, kid,’ Zeppo White said, edging closer to his beautiful client. ‘I told you I could do it for you.’

  ‘What? What?’ Whitney begged.

  ‘Not a word until Howard gets here, I promised.’

  ‘Ha! An agent’s promise is like a Bloody Mary without the vodka. It doesn’t mean a thing. And you know it.’

  Zeppo displayed a row of flawless false teeth. When he removed them he could give a woman more pleasure than she’d had in her entire life. ‘Patience, kiddo. Howard can be a mean one.’

  ‘Nobody’s mean to you, Zeppo,’ she coaxed. ‘You’re too important.’

  ‘Flattery’ll do it every time,’ he said, and just as he was about to tell her, Howard arrived.

  Whitney tried to compose herself. It had been an exciting day, what with her meeting with the new publicity firm, and now Zeppo White and Howard Soloman arriving at her house with something good to tell her.

  She knew what it was. They were finally going to confirm that she had the role in Romance. Although the script had been sent to her, it was no sure thing. Word was out that Orville Gooseberger wanted an actress who could sing. Well, she could learn, couldn’t she?

  Howard appeared even more manic than usual. He had stopped in the Polo Lounge and consumed a large piece of chocolate cake (lunch) and two glasses of warm milk (he feared an ulcer). He had also spoken to the head of publicity
at Orpheus. ‘Get me two hookers for a V.I.P. The expensive stuff. I need ’em tonight, an’ they both have to bring doctor’s certificates dated today.’ A pause. ‘Yeah, yeah. I know it’s oddball. Tell ’em to add the doctor’s charges to the bill.’

  That was easy. Now came the difficult part. A phone call to his wife. ‘Poppy, honey?’

  ‘Our party was a smash, Howard! Rave reviews! What time will you be home?’

  ‘One more meeting and I’m on my way.’

  ‘Roselight wanna kiss big daddy daddy nighty-night,’ Poppy baby-talked.

  Whew! She must be in a sensational mood. ‘What are we doing tonight?’ he asked.

  ‘Dinner at Morton’s with the Whites. I’m going to bask!’

  ‘Add three more.’

  Her tone changed. ‘Who?’

  ‘Zachary Klinger and his date, and her… friend.’

  Ominous silence.

  ‘C’mon, Poppy sweetie, it’s business.’ He hated it when she forced him into what she referred to as ‘poppins talk’.

  More silence.

  Shit!

  ‘You can stop by Cartier tomorrow,’ he suggested.

  A guilty giggle. ‘I was in Tallarico today.’

  Trust his wife. She knew exactly when to strike.

  Whitney looked quite edible, as usual. She had a healthy glow about her, an outdoor radiance coupled with an indoor sexuality.

  ‘Drink?’ she inquired breathlessly.

  ‘Water,’ Howard replied.

  She ran to the kitchen and got it for him. Whitney did not surround herself with servants. It made a refreshing change. Most of the women he knew were all terrified of breaking a nail.

  Zeppo beamed. ‘Well, kiddo,’ he announced. ‘I’m gonna let Howard tell you – it’s his studio.’

  ‘I’ve got Romance, haven’t I?’ she pleaded.

  ‘Better,’ said Zeppo. ‘You’ve—’

  Howard cut him off at the pass. ‘Orpheus wants you for the starring role in a sensational new film, The Murder. I may as well tell you up front – we’re after Mannon as your co-star, and Clarissa Browning for a cameo as the victim.’

  ‘Clarissa Browning!’ Whitney whispered reverently.

  ‘Hey – we’re not talking Friday the Thirteenth part fifteen. This is class,’ said Howard proudly.